


Lumberjack Pajamas

by redrichards



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Fluff, M/M, Pajamas & Sleepwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7115350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrichards/pseuds/redrichards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Montana is as cute and fluffy as ever. Oscar Mike? Well, I can't knock him for trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lumberjack Pajamas

**Author's Note:**

> So, I, uh, just unlocked all of Oscar Mike's lore and I realize that a lot of the things in this aren't actually canon? But I can't really look at this anymore, so I'm releasing it without any further editing. So consider this an au of the regular u or just try to ignore the discrepancies? Maybe?

“So… You’re like a fish then?”

It was a late night camping out in one of the abandoned Bliss settlements. Oscar Mike had been sent out in his second mission as a battleborn which was also coincidentally his second mission with another AWOL UPR soldier Montana. The day had been long and by the time Solus was finally settling on the horizon, the two of them had found a couple of abandoned bunks to make themselves at home. Montana had just finished changing into his pj’s, a plaid, blue and pink set that he kept wrapped up in one of the pockets on his belt, and was in the middle of questioning why Oscar Mike was attempting to sleep fully in his armor.

“Not really?” Oscar Mike sighed. His gills twitched under his helmet. God they were obscene. He was obscene. Mike soldiers were not made to take their helmets off. Back on planet Mike, all Oscar Mike saw in lieu of friendly faces were helmets.  Maybe once twice in the showers did he see any faces like his. He used to spend long hours in the bathroom late at night when everyone else was asleep just staring at himself. Mike units were made to wear helmets built to perfectly cover every inch of their manufactured faces. They surely weren’t made to make friends with cheerful giants who would only be able to scowl and cringe like he did when they saw his face. He wished Montana would just drop the question altogether.

“You don’t know?” Montana pressed. His eyes were bright and warm. He seemed so happy even though his friend was so reluctant.

Not friends! They were not friends! They were just two soldiers on a mission together. And no number of jokes and high fives would change that. No matter how many times Montana had saved his life. Swooping a wounded and protesting Oscar Mike into his arms in the heat of battle and running him to the nearest supply station. Just two soldiers.

“I do know,” Oscar Mike could feel a lump rising in his throat. “It doesn’t matter really.”

“Can I see?”

Montana was smiling for some reason. Not broadly but his eyes were smiling. Those brown eyes that brought such a warm comforting feeling to Oscar Mike. Even with bullets whizzing by where ears should be, looking up and seeing those eyes meant everything was okay.

And maybe things were okay. Oscar Mike wasn’t a Mike soldier anymore. He didn’t have to play by those rules. For heaven’s sake he said things like ‘You mad, bro?’ and called people scrubs. Had his C.O. heard him say something like that before he was banished…

But his C.O. was Ghalt. And Ghalt himself had said that he and Montana “seemed like good friends” after they returned from their first mission together, laughing arm in arm. That was what friends were right? People who cared about each other and laughed together. Right?

Oscar Mike didn’t really feel it when the clasps holding his helmet to his armor unhinged. His mind was too numb as he laid his helmet to the side and slowly brought his eyes up to meet Montana’s.

Montana said nothing, watching open mouthed. His face was always so difficult to read, Oscar Mike found, but then again he found everyone’s faces difficult to read.

“Yeah, I know. It’s-” Oscar Mike started to say, attempting to deflect the painful stare.

“You didn’t tell me you were handsome.” Montana said in the smallest voice.

Oscar Mike squeaked. Of all the things he thought he would hear, that was the furthest from it. Handsome? Handsome??? Montana, are you even paying attention? Handsome people don’t have blue skin and zero lips and weird gills lacing the side of their neck that like to flutter when stressed. Handsome people actually have hair that isn’t thick like bristle and eyes that aren’t a creepy glowing yellow.

“Are you being serious?” Oscar Mike asked. Montana nodded slowly. He was starting to smile again and his pale skin was turning that shade of red. “But I’m not- I mean… I look like a fish!”

“Fishes can be handsome,” Montana said. He wasn’t taking his eyes off Oscar Mike’s face and it was starting to make him uncomfortable.

“Fish are not handsome! They’re fish.” His gills quivered.

“They move!” Montana looked like he was about to start jumping up and down inside the tiny barracks.

“Don’t look at them!” Oscar Mike slapped his hands over his neck, covering up his gills which still rippled even restrained.

“I’m sorry,” Montana took a slow breath, bringing his energy level to a forced calm. “Can I touch them?”

Oscar Mike hesitated. No one had ever asked him that before. He watched the purest expression of wonder on Montana’s face for a moment before slowly removing his hands.

“I guess,” he said quietly.

Montana extended an arm, one finger reaching out. With such grace and control that no one would’ve expected from a ten foot tall giant who trucked around a minigun weighing several tons, Montana stroked the side of Oscar Mike’s face. Immediately his gills stopped fluttering and a wave of warmth washed over him. Montana’s smile grew wider as he pet Oscar Mike softly.

“They feel nice,” Montana stated.

They sat like that for a while. Montana pet him and Oscar Mike let him. Oscar Mike closed his eyes and breathed deep. Less than an hour ago they had been fighting for their lives and for what seemed like the first time in a very long time, Oscar Mike felt calm and comforted and cared for.

 And he realized something. It wasn’t unusual to be cared for anymore. The battleborn weren’t just a bunch of faceless soldiers. They were a family. And he was part of it.

“Do you have a pair of pj’s?” Montana broke their silence with the simple question. His hand returning to his lap. In his head he could feel his gills cry out.

“Uh, no?” Oscar Mike glanced at the button up stretched across Montana’s broad shoulders. Never had he owned anything like that.

“Don’t worry. I have a spare!” Montana said cheerfully.

He began to reach for his uniform that was lying, nicely folded on the floor. Oscar Mike was still trying to reconcile the fact that Montana owned one pair and brought it with him on missions, but we also brought a spare?

“Wait, you have _two_?”

Montana nodded happily. Out of his belt he pulled yet another pair of plaid pj’s. These ones were purple and orange. They were also made for someone with a shoulder width as long as Oscar Mike was tall.

“I don’t think they’ll fit.”

“Yeah,” Montana sighed. His smile disappeared as he began to neatly refold the set.

“I can just sleep in my under armor tonight. I’ll be fine.”

Montana nodded. “Don’t worry,” he said, his grin returning, “We can get you a set when we get back to Nova.” He replaced his spare and lied back on his bunk which was terribly too small for someone so large.

Oscar Mike removed the clunkiest of his a armor and curled up on his own bunk. He honestly doubted he’d ever wear anything like that, but lying in the cold dark of the night the idea didn’t seem so terrible. The night was long and he was exhausted, but before he could sleep there was one last thing he had to ask his friend.

“Can we make it green? I really like green.”

In the dark, he saw Montana’s silhouette nod.


End file.
